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verahella · 2 months

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ᡣ𐭩 HQ DAD MOMENTS !

✎ feat. k. kozume, k. tobio, o. tooru

ᡣ𐭩 KENMA KOZUME

it’s about three a.m and kenma really needs to pee but he’s scared that you’ll creep up on him and scold him, like his parents used to (he swears he’s an adult). he sighs, family never changes.

the door creaks open.

kenma spins in his chair slowly, “now listen, i can explain—”

his baby sits on the ground, big curious eyes wandering from him to the monitor.

kenma lets out a sigh, pulling his headphones down to his neck, “shouldn’t you be asleep?”

miyu tilts her head as if to ask him the same question.

“fine, fine.” kenma mutters, picking her up and wrapping an arm around her to keep warm as he spins back around, “i’ll let you play with me as long as you keep quiet.”

he narrows his eyes at her, “and no throwing up or pooping.”

miyu smooshes kenma’s cheeks together in acceptance and he nods, holding out a finger to which she wraps her hand around. “we have a deal then, partner in crime.”

the next twenty minutes pass in a blur, with his daughter criticising him with her babbles and pulling on the strings of his hoodie while kenma tries to shush her in the quietest way possible. the sound of keys being smashed fills the silence as kenma takes a break, rubbing his eyes.

he freezes immediately when he hears footsteps trudging to his room. oh shit.

kenma prays that it’s some ghost instead of his wife but he knows the pattern of those steps too well. kenma rushes to manoeuvre under the table and miyu lets out a traitorous giggle when he bangs his head.

the door opens and you yawn, rubbing your eyes.

“kenma?”

“what the—” your eyes squint in the bright glare of the monitor but even half asleep and caught between reality and dreams, you don’t think kenma can shrink so quickly, “where’s papa?”

your baby stares at you blankly, sitting in her dad’s gaming chair and wearing too large headphones that slip off her ears.

kenma doesn’t have to look to know she snitched so he sneaks out of his hiding place. not before banging his head once again though.

like the sadists his family is, miyu laughs again while you give him a look that says ‘you deserved it’.

he rubs his poor head to soothe it, “listen, i can explain—”

“you’re on diaper duty for the whole of next week.”

ᡣ𐭩 KAGEYAMA TOBIO

it breaks tobio’s heart when your daughter comes home from school with a tear stained face. her unicorn backpack is dropped on the floor with a thud as she rushes to burrow herself into her dad’s leg.

tobio picks her up and settles her onto his lap, frowning as he awkwardly pats her head. your daughter curls into him, fisting his shirt tightly.

“what happened?”

your daughter looks up at him, eyes brimming with tears, “s-some boy said that my nails s-sucked.” she mumbles through a soft pout on her lips.

tobio’s frown deepens as he looks down at her chubby fingers fiddling with his shirt. sure, one hand with pink glitter and the other with various shades of rainbow wouldn’t be his first choice but anything looks cute on his girl (his words, not mine.)

“they’re idiots. your nails are fine.”

he thinks that isn’t the right thing to say when her bottom lip starts wobbling. panic twists into his chest and he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind, “you can paint mine.”

her sniffles pause, “really?”

no. he doesn’t want to go out with gem nails from a five year old’s nail kit. “really.”

her eyes brighten up and tobio thinks the impending doom of embarrassment is worth bearing when she bounces and skips to get her nail kit.

hours of frozen playing in the background pass and that’s how you find your husband finishing up the last of his clumsily painted nails at ten in the night, your daughter tucked into a burrito of blankets and drooling on his chest.

your gaze snags on the heart drawn on his hand and a soft smile spreads on your lips when you recognise the initials.

yeah. when the prize is his favourite girls’ smiles, tobio can definitely deal with his deformed hello kitty nails being captured on camera in his next match.

ᡣ𐭩 OIKAWA TORU

you’ve made many mistakes in your life but you’re starting to think that your biggest one yet is bringing oikawa to the mall with you.

he was already unbearable when you were dating, buying you anything and everything that you glanced at for more than ten seconds. but now, it’s reached a point where you debate between pretending not to know him (which is hard when you both have the same last name) or straight up abandoning him and going home.

“babe! check this out!”

you sigh at his excited yell and your baby mirrors your annoyance from her stroller, “what is it this time?”

“isn’t this just adora—hey, careful! that’s my foot!” you stop just short of running over oikawa with the stroller. he sighs and holds up a pastel dress only slightly bigger than his hand, “isn’t it adorable? the bow is cute too.”

he leans down to the stroller, eyes sparkling, “you like it, don’t you, yuko-chan?”

your baby spits out her pacifier in response, crossing her chubby arms. you barely stifle a laugh at oikawa’s shoulders drooping.

“you’ve been spending way too much time with that thug, uncle iwa.” toru pouts.

at the mention of her favourite person in the world, yuko brightens up, clapping her hands. this time, you do laugh when oikawa’s jaw drops open.

“you wound my heart, yuko-chan.” he places a hand over his heart, letting out a sigh like a damsel in distress, “give papa a kiss and fix him up again.”

he looks down at her and finds her chewing on her thumb, attention diverted to a panda plushie. oikawa sighs and takes matters into his own hands, lifting up the baby to his eye level. the two have an intense staring contest before yuko pulls down her lower eyelid, blowing a raspberry at her father.

“wonder who she learnt that from,” you say drily.

your daughter is the only one who, aside from you, can humble her father and she does a good job at it, humiliating him everyday. oikawa doesn’t mind though, offensiveness gone in an instant as he peppers kisses all over yuko’s face. he coos at her little grunts before carrying his victim over to another trial of clothes.

you smile at your little family and follow them, dropping the panda plushie into the cart. you know toru will come back looking for it again anyway if you don’t.

anything to make his little girl happy.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #oikawa x reader #kenma x reader #kageyama x reader #oikawa toru #kenma kozume #kageyama tobio #vera’s.hq.library.✎

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blushbunii · 2 months

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Hi👋 I know nobody is gonna see this but i just love the idea of Luke with a ditzy girlfriend so I decided to write it myself. I'm not great at writing but I still wanted to post this somewhere bc I kinda like how it turned out <3 (if anyone does see this plz don't judge, like I said I'm bad at writing)

Ever since he met her he knew the guys at camp would be all over her. She was so innocent and would fall under their spell in a heart beat. Which is why he needed to make sure that he got to her first. He told himself that it was because he wanted to protect her, that the other guys would only use her. But in reality, there was more to it than that and he knew it.

There was something about her that drew him in. Mabey it was the way she got so flustered when she first met him. The way she looked up at him with those pretty blue eyes of hers, her cheeks a bright shade of pink. And the fact she stuttered when he asked for her name, making him smile.

Or mabey it was the way she dressed. She always wore skirts, even if she was at a camp. Shed wear a short white skirt with the classic orange camp half blood shirt. She always has a bow in her hair. Whether it was to hold in her pig tails, or a small pink clip with a bow on it in her long wavy hair.

Whatever it was he knew that he needed her to be his, and Luke always gets what he wants. Only a week into camp, she was all over him. She'd always stayed right by his side during capture the flag, and by the gods if anyone tried to hurt her they'd spend the rest of the day in the infirmary.

Or whenever the camp was doing activities, even something simple as bracelet making, she's always insisting that he help her. Stating that she can't tie it or that she cant find the right beads and needs his help. He knows that it's just stupid excuses so that he could be around her, but who was he to deny his princess?

And when she'd come crying to him because of something random that happened to her he always Comforts her, no matter how small it is. Most of the time it's Clarisse making fun of her because she did something wrong, or one of the boys making sexual jokes towards her. But sometimes it's something as simple as her breaking her favorite blush, or ruining her favorite top. But he still whispers sweet praises and promises in her ear as she cries into his chest. "shh it's okay sweetheart. I know it hurts, but everything is going to be alright" or "I'm here okay, I'll make sure to protect you. No one can ever hurt you when your with me"

And one night when she was sitting in his lap crying, he finally makes a small move. "Do you want me to make you feel better?" He asks, his voice soft, hiding the undertone of lust he felt for her. Even when she's crying she's so pretty. When she nods, his hand starts creeping up her thigh until he reaches the hem of her panties.

When she questions what hes doing he just says something like "I'm helping you feel better. Isn't that what you want?" He asks, smiling at the small whimpers that leave her mouth as he rubs her clit through her pink panties. "See? It feels good doesn't it" he says, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves faster. Her soft moans and pleas only make him want her more.

And once he makes her cum once he just can't stop. He starts fingering her, most definitely taking her virginity. And when she complains about the pain, he just praises her softly. "I know baby, I know it hurts. You're doing such a good job princess. I promise it'll feel so good, even better than before". And he was right, soon she was moaning and whining while grinding her hips against his hand, only making him go faster. "That's it sweetheart, taking my fingers so well"

And he doesn't stop until she on the verge of tears from the overstimulation. The second she catches her breath he lays her down on the bed, his hands immediately moving to unbutton his jeans to relieve his ranging hard on. "I know your tired baby, I'm only gonna take a minute okay?" He reassures you softly before sliding in, giving you time to adjust.

He knows that it hurts more than his fingers, and when you start crying from the pain he just kisses your cheek gently "hey, It's okay. I know it hurts darling. Just relax and let me take care of you okay? I'll protect you". He gives you extra time before moving in and out of you at a slow pace.

"Shh it's okay princess, it'll feel good soon" he says softly, thrusting a little faster. Soon she's squirming under him, begging to cum again. He fucks her a little faster, getting her closer to the edge. And when she finally does cum he talks her through it. "That's it baby, you look so pretty cumming on my cock. You're such a good girl for me. You're mine now aren't you? Gonna let me fuck you whenever I want?"

He moans out praises before he pulls out and moves to cum on her pretty face. He smiles when her tounge lolls out to lick the cum off of him, but when she comes back to reality she starts complaining about how he ruined her makeup.

He laughs softly at her reaction and cleans off her face with a towel before laying down beside her, pulling her into his arms. "I'm sorry I ruined your makeup, when I leave camp again I'll bring back all the makeup you want" he promises as he runs his fingers through her hair, loving the way she smiles up at him. Eventually after a few minutes of cuddles and praise, she closes her eyes and nuzzles into his chest. "Aww is my princess tired?" He teases softly. "Sleep baby, you deserve it" he kisses your forehead as she falls asleep in his arms. He had her in his grasp, and no one was going to take her away from him.

#luke castellan #luke castellan smut #luke x reader #pjo series #charlie bushnell

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tteokdoroki · 2 years

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✉️; SWEATER SEASON. - T.KAGEYAMA.

💌; synopsis - your boyfriend finds you wearing a piece of old high school memorabilia, his number nine kurasuno jersey, and it drives him absolutely insane.

↳ length: 2.07K

↳ warnings: smut, mdni 18+, fem!reader, characters aged up to 20s, post-time skip!au, unprotected sex, clothed sex, pussy jobs, soft/mean!kageyama, praise!kink, reader is wearing kageyama’s clothes.

↳ notes: a very self indulgent piece because i finished hq s4 and cant stop thinking about kageyama ?? it’s giving obsessed with him i think <3! not beta’d ! enjoy my loves hehe - m.list ♡

“are you gonna tell me where you found it? or do i have to fuck it out of you, baby?” kageyama’s voice is tender as he asks, speaking to you like you’re a timid creature or somewhat of a street cat that might scurry away from him at any given moment. but the way he treats you is mean, his hands that are both large enough to cover the globes of your ass grip at your soft flesh— easily pull you back and forth, back and forth on his cock while you’re seated in his lap, your dainty fingertips just peeking out of the sleeves on his cold kurasuno jersey, gripping into his shoulder blades to somewhat ground yourself. “‘m talkin’ to you sweetheart,”

you know that he is, god, you know.

but words are hard to come by when you’re seated on your boyfriend’s cock, letting him bounce you up and down mercilessly until you can practically feel him in your throat. you know kageyama’s talking to you, his pretty girl, angel dressed in nostalgic shades of burnt orange and obsidian black— he loves how you can’t respond, blubbering and babbling incoherent sentences while you hide your swollen lips under the collar of his sweatshirt and drip so sweetly down his shaft from your heavenly little hole.

“uh—oh, mhm…mhm!” is all you can manage, swallowed by fabric that smells like your olympic athlete boyfriend, drowning in the strong waves of lust as he pounds up into your pretty puffy pussy until there are tears in your eyes.

tobio let’s a hand leave your ass to tap at your baby fat cheeks, his dark blue eyes lit up with hunger as he mocks your pout. “words please baby, i know you know them.” it’s almost a joke to him, how weak and needy you get as soon as his milky top pushes past your selfish entrance, and brushes up against your velvety inner walls. he reads it in your eyes, how much you crave him and feels it in your cunt when you spasm and clench down on him, your juices rolling down his lengthy shaft and coating his balls.

he taps your cheek again, and you whimper like a lost little lamb— the traces of a smile spreading across kageyama’s lips. “f-found it in the, fuck, the back of the closet… h’i missed you.” you cry out, gently circling your hips down on your boyfriend’s, droplets in the form of angel tears clumping in your lashes. kageyama’s smile widens, the hand in your cheek wrapping around the back of your neck, tilting your head up to kiss him.

you let the fabric of the kurasuno jersey fall down to your chin, head angled perfectly to meet his lips and let your tongue slide wetly over the seam— begging your boyfriend to let you in. and he does, he lets you take charge of the searing and sloppy, spit slicked kiss. he lets you lick into his mouth and squeak against his tongue while he dominates the rest of your body buried beneath his old clothes. tobio feels you lean into him, free falling into his love and his desire while his hands slip under the sweatshirt to draw circles into your tummy, tease you by thumbing just under the swell of your breasts where they meet your rib cage before tweaking your nipples with tender love and care.

his cock aches inside you, just knowing that all your beauty, your curves, your pebbled nipples and the marks you have are hidden— no, protected from the hungry gaze of others by his old uniform. it drives kageyama insane, activates animalistic instincts in the back of his brain as he forces his cock as deep as it can go, rubbing his tip against your gummy walls and marking your insides with opaque wads of his messy precum until you’re squelching every time he ploughs into you.

you probably have no idea how fucking good you look right now, like a five course meal served up to the volleyball player on a silver platter. his baby, tobio kageyama’s innocent little baby had no idea of what she was getting herself into when you put on that number 9 kurasuno jersey. no idea that you would be fucked within an inch of your life, perfect pussy stretched over his painfully hot dick— his forked veins brushing up against pleasure spits only kageyama could reach. “h’baby, you could have just, fuck…” the athlete curses, having been pounding into you so hard that his cock slips out of your eager hole, sliding right up against your clit which shines, soaked underneath the you yellow lighting in your bedroom. kageyama shivers when your tiny hand, peeking out from sweater paws to jerk him off. you thumb at his blistering red and seedy tip, you even drool over it too— right before guiding him back inside of your fluttering fat pussy. “there we go…you shoulda called me,”

“y-you were at practice! oh fuck—tobi!” you whine, bristling with desire when kageyama wastes no time fucking your cunt into the shape of him. the bed creeks under the weight of his thrusts up into you, balls slapping heavy against your ass only serving to fill the room with their sensual song. you feel like you might cry, that’s how deep in your guts kageyama is, ruining your body for anyone else, claiming you as the mixture of your arousals froths and gathers at the swelling base of his shaft. whatever your precious cunt drools, quickly gets fucked back into your gushing insides and painted against your spongey g-spot the more your boyfriend throws his hips up to fuck you.

tobio grabs at your hips, holding you up so the only thing you can hump is his mushroomed cockhead, bright red and burning for you. he just wants to see, even though you whine for him put it back in, he just wants to see how raw and swollen your folds are from underneath his clothes— wants to know how much he turns you on. “you think i wouldn’t have left practice to come make my baby feel good?” he asks, pressing his face into your neck and tilting his head up to lick the tears that stream down your face. “volleyball ain’t got shit on this fuckin’ pussy,” he breathes against your skin,

filling you up all over again with one sharp thrust until he’s buried into you right up to the hilt.

and it’s true, not even the satisfaction of smacking a ball straight into the opposite court, not even lining up the perfect set or the smell of rubber sneakers burning against the floor during a tournament could compare to the sweet bliss of your warm, tight cunt wrapped around kageyama’s dick. you’re his favourite thing dressed in the jersey of his first love, humping away at his lap like a bitch in heat.

and kageyama thinks would be the best place in the world to die if it were to happen right now.

“‘m close tobi, i’m gonna cum,” you heave into his ear like it’s a promise, arms looped around his neck where the softness of his jersey rubs against his sweaty skin. “fuck you’re gonna make me cum, o-oh. oh!” your head tilts back when his fingers meet your puffy clit, writing his signature against it while you drool from your mouth and your slit. “tobio.” there’s a warning lilt to the edge of your tone, telling your boyfriend that you can’t hold back and there’s a new feverishness to the way you roll your hips back down to meet his.

so he pushes you onto your back, covering you with his slender body, his lips on yours while your ankles lock at his waist. the angle of kageyama’s hips shift, bullying his tip against your g-spot over and over, smearing precum along your velvety walls and bullying his way into you until you can see stars. he knows the way he fucks you is just right, he can tell by the way your lips form a gentle ‘o’ and the way your nails ( that he paid for ) dig into his toned shoulders and form crescent moons.

“oh right there?” kageyama coos, lips messily finding yours while he pins your waist down to the sex soaked sheets bellow. your face changes, shining with sweat but so blissed out it makes your boyfriend’s hips stutter, losing the rough tempo they set. “ah, here…that feel good baby? yeah? oh fuck i know it’s good.” his words are breathy and shoot straight to your core, making your hole flutter around him— sucking his pulsing cock in selfishly. with his free hand, tobio roughly pushes up his kurasuno jersey that pools over your body right up to your tits— stormy blue eyes laser focused on the way they bounce under the weight of his thrusts.

kageyama is way taller than he was back in high school, but the length of the fabric still has you swimming in it— the volleyball player bunches it up, smiling down at you and uses the material to tug you back onto his dick, barely letting you off it as your clit grinds up against his washboard abs. “oh baby don’t cry, you’ll get to cum. i know you wanna fucking cum. can you do that?” he asks you, and again your words escape you as you’re left a teary eyed mess underneath the dark haired man. “yeahh, yeah you can. there you go.”

“tobi—!” you gasp, orgasm tearing though you as he pressed his entire weight onto you, fucking you hard and fast right through your high. you can’t help it, cunt squeezing down on him hard— juices splashing against kageyama’s stomach, making him almost grateful that he pushed his sweat shirt up to expose your pretty chest. “holy shit— tobio, i can’t, god—i can’t!,” pushing at his shoulders, your heave and hiccup as he picks up the pace and rams into your creamy sex again and again and again, forcing another orgasm out of you.

you fucking squirt, a clear stream pouring from your abused little cunt— eyes rolling back into your skull as a silent scream rattles around in your throat. your hands dart up to grab at midnight black hair, tugging tobio closer, close enough for him to feel you tremble as you cream hard around his dick, practically forcing him out of your hole.

“shit, baby…fuuck there you go, that’s it,” kageyama sighs against your wet lips, one arm outstretched over your head to grip the head board— the other between your bodies so he can tap his sensitive cockhead against your glistening and gushing pussy, running it up and down through the length of your slit. “mmhm, fuck you did so good, my good girl.” he stutters, lashes fluttering against your shoulder as he listens to the sticky sounds your puffy folds make while he glides through them. he kisses the tears that sit on the apples of your cheeks, using your shaky body to get himself off until he finds himself cumming against your cute little clit. a layer of thick white coats your hot mound and as he takes hold of his dick, tobio pushes the mix of your arousals back into you, shallowly fucking your hole as you twitch with the after shocks of your orgasm before he eventually settles inside you so you cockwarm him.

kageyama rolls off of you, pulling your leg high over his hip while you snuggle into him. “‘m sticky,” you complain, forming tiny fists against his chest. through the sleeves of your boyfriend’s kurasuno jersey.

“you’re sticky ‘n so pretty baby,” kageyama’s cheeks are pink tinted from exertion, a soft smile on his lips while feeling you up from under the kurasuno colours. “want you to wear this more often…you look really good in it.”

twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers. “i’ll wear whatever it takes to get you to fuck me like that again, tobi.” you purr into the shell of his ear, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “you’ll want to get spares of your japan team uniform as well.”

“oh yeah?” tobio hums, eyes on yours, cock twitching softly inside of you. “how come?”

“‘cause when you bring home a medal f’me, i can’t guarantee i won’t make a mess on you.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 days

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the girl next door 12

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

“How about it, Holly?” Steve’s voice brings you back from your trance.

You only realise then that you’ve zoned out. You look down at your plate, your burger half-eaten and the salad mostly gone. As your mom babbled on, you’d lost yourself staring out at the lawn. It didn’t really matter, she barely acknowledged you since you came out with dinner.

You glance between her and Steve, lost in the conversation already underway.

“I’d love that, it will be nice,” your mom answers, beaming across the table; the shade of the umbrella gathering in the lines of her face.

“How about you, kiddo? Grab you pajamas and join the party,” Steve looks at you.

“Huh?” You and your mom utter in unison.

“Both of us?” She asks in a brittle quaver.

“Yeah, sure, it’ll be a nice way to connect. Holly, I know you’re a mother first, it’s a package deal.”

“Mm, yeah, I just... I misinterpreted,” she puts her hand against her neck. “A sleepover, that’s fun.”

“I felt bad about last time. Don’t want anyone left out of movie night. I got popcorn, mph,” he turns to you again, “do you like cream soda? I got some cane stuff in the glass bottles--”

“That’s a lot of sugar,” your mother murmurs.

“It’s one night,” he shrugs, “it won’t hurt. Lots to go around.”

“I guess...” she forces a smile.

“Well, we can always hold off. I did promise ice cream,” he sits back and claps his thighs. “You all done?”

You stare at the table then look up in the silence. You don’t realise he’s talking to you. You nod. Your stomach won’t settle. It’s been off all day; you wonder if maybe the maple syrup was a bit too much yesterday.

“I’ll wrap it up for you, you can have it later if you want,” he stands and takes your plate, then your mother’s and his own. Where you nibbled through barely half, they had nothing left.

You sit back and cross your arms as Steve goes inside. Your mother sighs and glares past you. She’s annoyed even if you hadn’t made the decision yourself. You didn’t even accept the invitation.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, “you just can’t help but get in the way.”

She leans forward. When she’s angry, her tremors worsen. She’s barely able to keep her head still.

“I didn’t...”

“Oh, be quiet. He only feels bad for you because he knows I can’t get rid of you,” she sneers. “He knows you have nothing go for you. No job, no friends, no hobbies.” She sits back and huffs, “I tried to raise you better. I really did. I don’t know what happened.”

You lower your head. Maybe you can come up with a lie. If you can find an excuse to leave, she won’t be able to hate you.

“I could say I’m not feeling well--”

“Just stay out of the way,” she snarls.

You sniff and turn away, hiding the gloss of tears in your eyes. Sometimes, you don’t do anything at all and she’s mad. You hear Steve coming back out and you wipe your nose, keeping your face down as you shrink.

You can be invisible. You’re good at that.

🏠

Not wanting to seem ungrateful, you accept a bowl of ice cream and finish it. Strawberry. It's delicious but you just can't enjoy it. You're uneasy, unsure.

You go to grab some pajamas, your mother issuing another warning before you return to Steve's. You wear a pair of polka dot bottoms and a jersey shirt. You'll just be watching tv, and hopefully, if you can settle down, sleeping.

Your mother sits on the couch. You can see the fatigue quivering in her lip and drooping in her eyelids. She never did as much before your new neighbour. You only ever stayed inside and wilted in the sunlight.

"Holly, you need anything?" Steve asks as he pushes up the ottoman, "how about you put your feet up. I just wanted to show her something."

"What's that?" Your mom asks.

"Oh, yeah, well, I know she likes art so I wanted to show her my studio. Or office, whatever you wanna call it."

"Mm, right. Upstairs, huh?" She grumbles.

"Right," he confirms, "we won't be too long. You can find a movie." He hands her the remote, "I had some extra pencils and stuff I found on the move. Figured she could take em off my hands."

"Sure, sure," she yawns and leans her head in her hands. You can't tell if she's witholding herself out of exhaustion or for Steve's benefit.

"Come on. We'll just pop up for minute," Steve nudges your arm.

You hug one arm across your stomach and push your shoulder up. You take his direction as he points you actoss the room. You go to the stairs and climb one by one.

Further down, he takes you into another room, just across from an open bedroom. You shuffle inside and can't help marvel at the interior. The walls are hung with still lifes in pencil, charcoal, and ink, and an easel stands by the window, a large drafting table at the center of the room.

"You do these?" You ask bluntly.

"Ha, yeah, I... when I saw your sketchbook, I admit, I got a bit excited. A fellow artist."

"You're an artist? You make money off of this?"

"Sure do," he smiles proudly. "Did some time in the army then had to get out, find some peace. Always found painting calms me."

"Oh."

"I wanted to say something sooner but I wanted to show you," he enters and brushes by you, hand dragging across your back. "Let me find those pencils."

You nod and pace cautiously around the table. There's an open sketchbook. A woman's naked back greets you, a piece of fabric draped around her hips as her refined profile is etched perfectly.

He's good. Better than you. You back away as he sorts through the shelf.

'Ah, here," he turns to you again, "pencils, sketchbook, oh and maybe you'll want these watercolours. I was sent two by accident."

"Oh, uh, thanks, but... you don't have to."

"You're talented. You'll make good use of them, I know it."

"Mm, I... try."

"There's this place I know. Great view. Maybe you can come one day. Good fodder," he offers. "Trees, water, and the sunset..."

"Maybe," you agree half-heartedly.

"Then maybe you can bring it to my next art show."

"Art show?" You mutter, eyes rounding.

"Sure. It'll be good for you. I know you take care of your mom and that's sweet but you gotta make your way. Eventually."

"I know," you slump and take the sketchbooks and flat tins from him. "Thank you. I..." you look at the brand names. You know they're expensive from the catalogues you look at but never buy from. "No one... these are so nice. I appreciate it."

"No problem, sweetie. Let me know if you need anything else. Hell, if you want a quiet place to work..." he stops behind you and looks around, "even just an escape..."

“That's okay,” you say as you go back into the hall.

You head back downstairs, the pencils clattering just a little in your hands. As you enter the living room, you hear a snort. Your mom's head lolls back against the couch as she snores. Steve walks into you from behind as he stops too late.

“Oop,” he frames your hips for just a moment as he presses again your back then parts. “Sleepyhead,” he chuckles and sidles past you, a waft of his cologne filling your lungs. He didn't smell so strongly before. “Well, guess it's your choice, sweetie,” he takes the remote and holds it out to you.

“Oh, uh, you choose,” you try to wave him off but he pushes the remote into your hand.

“You can put your stuff on the table,” he points to the sketchbook clutches against your chest, “better get cozy while I get the popcorn going.”

Before you can argue, he's gone. You turn to look at your mom. Why did she have to fall asleep? She could've said no to all of this, that she's too tired. Now it's you and Steve. Hopefully, the movie keeps the chatter to a minimum.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #the girl next door #drabble #series #au #silverfox au #captain america #mcu #marvel

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monster-disaster · 7 months

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[lion rakshasa] Dain

lion rakshasa!Dain x human!Reader Good to know: shower smut

Summary: Dain's night continues.

The bar on the ground floor of the hotel is still lively and busy despite the late hours. Humans and monsters enjoy the slow music in the background, drinking and chatting. As you turn your head away from the tables around you, your gaze lands on the tall windows. You can see the glinting stars in the night sky above the dark silhouettes of the sand dunes. You can still barely believe you are here. You heard about the resort before, but you never thought you would ever have the reason to come here.

Your attention turns back to your best friend and her fiancé. They sit next to each other in front of you on the other side of the round table. Their gazes scan the room every now and again, pausing on someone behind you. You don't turn to see who they are watching. Their matching smiles tell you everything you need to know.

"Careful," you hum knowingly. "There will be no wedding tomorrow if you two don't show up in time." Your friend scoffs, with a giddy smile playing on her red lips. "We will be there." Her fiancé kisses the soft curve of her bare shoulder in agreement.

By now, it's just you and them at the table. Your other friends have already left for the night.

"Well, guys, I better get going too," you tell them. "Tomorrow will be a long day, and as I see, you already have other plans." "Are you mad?" Your friend tears her eyes away from the stranger behind you. Worry glints in her dark eyes. "Of course not," you smile at her reassuringly. "I will see you guys tomorrow." "Bye."

Grabbing your purse, you leave the bar and your friends behind.

The entrance hall of the hotel is calm, with dim lights and muffled sounds coming from the bar. The receptionist sits at the counter, reading a magazine with a bored expression. Her black hair hides half of her face. You are sure she is not a human, but no matter how much you stare at her, you can't see the signs of her true form.

The opening and closing of the entrance door draw your attention away from the woman to a male rakshasa only in a towel around his waist. His posture is relaxed, and his movements are lazy as he stops next to you, waiting for the elevator. You can only guess where he spent his night from his still-damp fur and the scent of lotions lingering around him. Your eyes wander all over his body without your noticing. His mane is a few shades darker than the fur on the rest of his body. The thick hair does nothing to hide his broad shoulders. His upper body is a mix of muscles and fat with a bit of a belly. Seeing the width of his arms and legs, you have no question about his strength. When your gaze runs back up to his face, the male is already watching you from the corner of his eyes. The black line of his lips pulls into a soft, lazy curve as he smiles.

"Good night?" You break the silence when it starts to become too awkward. "And it gets better," he replies, letting his eyes fall on your cleavage. The small, black cocktail dress you wear leaves nothing to the imagination. "You seem too sure," you reply, letting your lips pull into a smirk. "Am I?" He asks. The elevator softly dings next to you, but none of you move to get in. He focuses on you while you stare up at him, excited.

If your friends let themselves have a fun night before their wedding, you can enjoy some company too. Especially since you are almost sure your roommate is busy with a harpy.

The rakshasa leans closer. The soothing scent of the oils fills your nostrils. "The masseur just sucked my cock not even half an hour ago," he says, smirking. "But I'm ready for another round, sweetheart." "Are you sure it won't fall off?" You tease. "You have to find out."

Biting your bottom lip, you think about his offer. In other circumstances, you would be pissed. He is too confident and crude. Somebody just sucked him off, and he is ready to jump on you. The calm satisfaction of his post-orgasm rakes off his body.

"Where is your room?" You ask him, crossing your arms in front of your chest, waiting. Lifting his arm, he lets you into the elevator first. The metal box seems even smaller with his big figure next to yours.

Well, even though you would reject him on any other day, today, you decide otherwise. You are in the middle of a desert at a nice resort that's famous for its sexual freedom. One more night after the wedding, and you have to go home and continue your life. You will never see the male again, so you are allowed to have some fun.

The elevator stops with another ding, and the male leads you out to his room with his hand on the small of your back. "The name is Dain, by the way," he breaks the silence, turning the key in the lock. "Amy," you reply.

The moment the door of his room closes behind you, he just tugs on the towel around his waist and lets the fabric fall to the ground. Your jaw falls in surprise as you force your gaze away from his already half-hard erection.

"You are not shy, are you?" You ask him, staring at the white ceiling. "Well, you will see me anyway, no?" He asks. "Besides, if I don't wash the oil off my fur, it will be a pain in the ass tomorrow." "Okay," you nod. Understandable. "Then I will just wait here?" You start to fidget in awkwardness. Usually, you are not up for one-night stands, and this is the reason why. You don't know him. You don't know what he likes and dislikes. You are not comfortable enough around him to know what to do. The few times you let yourself go with a stranger, you were tipsy with much more confidence and carelessness. "Or you can join me?" He suggests watching you from the entrance of the bathroom. "Or if you changed your mind, I understand, you know? You don't have to do anything." Hearing his reassuring words makes your gaze drop back to him. He fills out the door frame with his broad figure. His fur shines under the light of the room. "A shower sounds good," you tell him at the end, reaching back to the zipper of your dress to get rid of your clothes. When you look back at him, naked, the smirk is back on his face. "I'm glad," he says, staring at your breasts without shame. He licks one of his sharp teeth, making your thighs clench with anticipation. "Come on, then, sweetheart."

You follow him to the bathroom and under the shower. Soon, the sound of the water coming from the showerhead fills the room, and you find yourself almost pressed against his body. "It's smaller than I thought," you state. "I don't complain," Dain grins, looking at you. The tip of his hard cock grazes your belly. It's hot and heavy on your skin. "Do you need help?" You ask him, watching him wash his front, making sure his mane stays dry the whole time. "Could you wash my back?" He asks. "Sure," you reply, soaping your hand before he turns his back to you, and you get to work on his fur. "And your mane?" "It's fine. It would take forever to dry it."

Your fingers brush through his now wet fur. You can feel the oil under your touch, and bubbles appear, following the way of your hands on his back. His posture is relaxed as he lets the warm water wash down his body.

Silence settles between you two, and slowly but surely, you calm down too. You find enjoyment in taking care of his fur. You let your hand smooth over his sides, reaching his front. Your bare chest is pressed against his back. Exploring his upper body, the water soaks you, too, cocooning you in a steamy warmth. The scent of the oil and his shampoo mix in your nostrils.

"Let me turn around," Dain says, and when you do, he pours more soap into his large hands and starts to wash your hair. He massages your scalp, curling your hair around his fingers. Your lips fall open with a sigh, and your eyes close for long seconds. "You are good at this," you hum. "I'm good at a lot of things," he replies, moving his hand down your body. He rubs your muscles, caresses your skin, and flicks your nipples. You pamper each other for a long time, not caring about his erection between your bodies. "Spread your legs," he says, and you do. His thick fingers slide over your pussy, opening you up and making sure you are wet enough before finding your entrance. Your own hold on his wide shoulders tightens as he pushes into you. "Fuck," you gasp out. "Good?" The male hums close to your ear. His breath fans over the curve of your neck. "You have a tight cunt." "You are really crude," you laugh breathlessly. "Is it bothering you?" He asks. Tease rings in his deep voice. "Should I shut up? Or do you want to hear me saying how much I want to fuck this cunt until you can't walk?" His words go straight to your pussy. Something cramps in your belly. "Answer me, Amy," he continues. "Maybe I shouldn't tell you how your pussy will soak my cock as I drive inside you, fucking you into the wall until you can think of nothing but my cock in your tight channel." "I want to hear it," you cry out when he curls his finger inside you, rubbing your walls and stretching you out. "That's what I thought," Dain grins. "I can feel it. What made you so wet? My words or my finger? Maybe the sight of my big cock?" "All of it," you reply. Your fingers pull on his fur to tug him closer. "Fuck me, Dain. I'm ready." "Then turn around and show me your ass," he orders.

Facing the wall, you brace your palms against the tiles. Your legs are still open, and your ass is pushed out. Your nipples are hard, swollen pebbles after his teasing tugs and rubs. The shampoo from your hair flows down the curve of your back.

"I want to bite this ass so much," Dain grunts, groping your ass. His fingers dig into your flesh, parting your cheeks and staring at your holes with hunger. A satisfied purr leaves his chest at the sight. You can feel the sound on the walls, in your bones, between your legs. "Later?" You ask, even though the memory of his sharp teeth awakes something inside you. Dain, without replying, steps closer until you can feel the tip of his cock nudging your folds and slapping your clit. The rakshasa takes his time, coating himself in your wetness. "Brace yourself," he warns you, adjusting himself at your entrance and slowly, but surely pushing inside you. He doesn't stop to let you get used to his size until he is fully inside. "Oh, god," you groan breathlessly. Your nails graze the wall. "You are big." "And you are tight," he tells you. "So fucking tight." His voice is breathless. Your walls hug his length, sucking him in even more. His balls jerk at the feeling. "Fuck me," you moan, pushing your hips out against him even more. The muscles in your arms tense as you brace yourself against the wall. The male rakshasa still feels big in your pussy, but the slight burn of your hole is pleasurable and drives you to want more. Much more.

Dain grabs your hips, with an almost bruising strength as he pulls you back on his cock. He starts to fuck you against the wall. He thrusts in and out of you with such a speed that leaves you breathless. The wet, slapping sound of your bodies fills the small room. One of his hands runs up on the front of your body, grabbing your breast in his vice hold. "Fuck," he groans against your shoulder. His teeth graze your skin. "You feel so good." "Don'tstopdon'tstop," you moan. "Oh my god!" He reaches every part inside you that makes you see stars on the white walls. The only things that keep you on your feet are his arms around your body. "Cum for me, Amy," he growls, snapping his hips against your ass. "Make a mess on my cock." He uses your hole to the point it's almost painful. He pushes you higher and higher until you fall over the edge with a loud scream. Your walls tighten and flutter around his cock, sucking him into you for his seed. The feel of your pussy cumming around him makes the male growl. You can feel the deep rumble on your back as his chest presses you into the wall. Your knees buckle, and Dain has to catch you at the last moment. "I'm not done with you yet," he laughs, hauling you up with his cock still inside you. "And after I paint your ass with my cum, I have a seat for you on my face."

You only hope you won't be late for your friends' wedding tomorrow.

- Masterlist Mirage Resort Masterlist Patreon

#monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x reader #monster x human #monster smut #mirage resort #kinktober 2023

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banaynay-art · 1 year

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Finished the disco game so i had to draw some of my favourite Kim moments. This was supposed to be a half hour sketch and then 3.5 hours passed and it was 2 am oh well.

Wip and ID under the cut.

[ID: A horizontal page full of sketches and finished drawings of gay icons Harry du Bois and Kim Kitsuragi. Two drawings are just black and white sketches of Harry and Kim's faces. The rest is brightly coloured. The art style is clean, cute and comic-like.

On the first drawing Kim is taking off Harry's red sun glasses. He says: "No" with 3 "N"s because that what he talks like, the madman. Harry looks confused. He probably liked the shades.

The next drawing is Kim calling out: "A gym teacher? I knew it!!" He looks a bit manic, like the mistery of Harry's fitness weighed heavily on him.

The next drawing is of the two sitting on swings. Harry is wearing the mesh top with the ugly tie and the Frittte raincoat. Also he's wearing high boots. Kim is in his usual outift. While Harry is sitting with his legs spread and his hands gripping the ties of the swing, Kim is resting his right foot on his left knee, gripping his ankle with both hands. He is just too cool to sit like a straight person. He is whisteling while Harry looks at him in amazement. There's a tear in his right eye and he has two plusses above his head, indicating that the whisling is healing him.

The next drawing is Kim hiding his laugh and mocking Harry by quoting him: "‘He smells good!‘" Harry looks at him in confusion, his hands raised, palms up, to show he doesn‘t get it. "Yeah?", he asks. He's wearing a dirty wife beater, a read bow tie and a police coat, by the way. It's a grand combo.

There's another drawing next to this one that can be read as part of the previous one. It is just Kim laughing. That's it. Two plusses are appearing above my head as i'm writing this.

The last drawing is Kim standing with his hands in his jacket pockets. He looks angry. Weirdly he also looks a bit like a teenager from an 80ies anime in this. But that's not important. He says: "I went undercover as a pinball pro." A speach bubble from outside the page asks: "A what?"

There is another page which is the work in progress. It's exactly the same but only the line art. /End ID]

#drew him laughing bc i couldn't help myself #disco elysium #de #kim kitsuragi #harry du bois #my art #i once misread the disco elysium and harry du bois tag as disco boys #so now i'm making it a tag i guess #disco boys #when i read the ID to check for spelling mistakes i heard it in the disco elysium narrator voice

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glitterjay · 1 month

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— cute sub psh

⭒ what happens when you find out your sweet and caring boyfriend has a darker side he's been hiding? | mlist!

⭒ sub!sunghoon, afab!reader, begging, denial of orgasm, masturbation (m. receiving), pet names, hoon has a praising kink, suggestive content under cut mdni.

⭒ taglist: @hollyoongs @moon7jay @wondipity @defnotfertilizedtoesw

you and sunghoon had been dating ever since your senior year in high school. he was the sweetest, most smartest boy that could ever exist, and honestly, you were just the average normal girl who tried not to fail more than one class.

the relationship was wonderful. he'd always take care of you. your parents were basically in love with him as well, always thanking him for doing what he's doing to protect you in any way. little did you know there were dark thoughts behind that angel facade.

you and sunghoon had agreed on a sleepover at his apartment. his roommate was gone for the weekend, and you both took this as the perfect opportunity to spend time for yourselves. your boyfriend was in the kitchen preparing more snacks and popcorn while you stayed in his bed looking for a show or movie to watch.

the screen showed various opttions, one of them getting your attention almost immediately. the communication between you and sunghoon was probably one of the things that kept it so steady. you guys had talked about being intimate with each other beyond make out sessions, but you never really had the opportunity.

with 50 shades of gray displayed on the screen, an idea ran through your mind. you went through his closet quickly, finding a long white t-shirt that would obviously fit you like a baggy dress. you took your cute sponge bob pajamas (with a small pout since sunghoon was wearing matching patrick star pajamas) but your idea was more important.

you grabbed your phone from the nightstand, connecting it to the small speaker beside the tv and playing the soundtrack from the movie. you laid on your side across the bed, intentionally riding up the shirt so that part of your thigh showed a little. right on queue, sunghoon's footsteps started getting louder and closer.

"hey, baby, have you seen my-"

his words got caught on the back of his thorat. the sight was definitely erotic, and his cock twitching was clear evidence of that.

cute sub! sunghoon who asks you to rub his dick faster and harder.

cute sub! sunghoon who moans loudly when you call him a good boy.

cute sub! sunghoon who is gripping the bedsheets for dear life.

cute sub! sunghoon who feels like cumming every time you praise him.

"b-baby, please please please. 'm so close," he said. his hair was sticking to his forhead, glistening with the sweat that was dripping down. your hands were doing wonders to his cock, and hebwas very vocal about it. "hmgh! im- im gonan cum"

suddenly, your hand stopped moving. resting at the base of his dick. sunghoon's head shot up, tears threatening to fall any second. "no, no, no, no! why! i- i was so close!"

"darling, darling please," he took your hand into his, moving it at a fast pace again. his hips bucked up as he moaned loudly. "i'll pay you back, just please let me cum."

if you were being honest, seeing him in the verge of tears turned you on even more. it was going to be a fun and long night.

c's note: if you have any suggestions or ideas, or want to be added to the tag list, feel free to use my ask! reblogs, comments, and feedback are very much appreciated <3

#— ✿ c's work!#enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #engene #hard hours #kpop smut #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon smut #sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon smut

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stellamancer · 8 months

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(though we may) fall apart - reader x satoru gojo

notes: uh. so this started as a vent fic and it kind of evolved into this. in some ways it kind of feels like a character study, but writing from gojo's perspective is uh. a ride. additionally, this is meant to be a companion fic to between the moon's divide, though it's not required reading (especially since this fic takes place before that one).

contains: fem!reader (no gendered terms, no physical descriptions, but implied to be smaller than gojo if you look closely enough), gojo's absolutely bonkers pov, hurt/comfort, physical violence (in which reader punches gojo), mentions of anxiety and mental breakdowns

wc: 4.3k -> [read on ao3; account required]

Satoru has good eyes.

Not just in the sense that they're beautiful— because they are: clear as the daytime sky and bright as the stars in the night. His eyes, a breathtaking shade of blue, have been a source of admiration and envy all his life, captivating and entrancing people left and right, but their sheer beauty isn't even the best thing about them.

It's the fact that his eyes let him see, let him really see.

Perceptiveness is not a skill that Satoru Gojo has ever had to learn, but one that's been thrust upon him, branded into the hue of his eyes. There's very little that he doesn't notice– that he doesn't see. From subtle shifts in body language to the ebb and flow of cursed energy, there is almost nothing that isn't laid bare before Satoru's Six Eyes.

That's how Satoru knows that something is wrong.

To your credit, you’re very good at hiding it— years of practice paying off in full. Everyone seems none the wiser when you smile and say you’re fine. Satoru wonders if they actually believe you or if they just don’t want to open that can of worms, but he can tell— from the faint, yet dissonant undercurrent in your voice that you are anything but fine.

The fact that your cursed energy is wound tightly around your form, like a protective cocoon doesn’t help your case either.

But that’s probably something only Satoru, with his Six Eyes, can discern.

He makes it a point to not call you out for your deception in front of everyone— you like to wear a brave face, so he’ll be nice enough to not tear it down in front of everyone to see. Besides, if he did that, he would lose major brownie points with you, and he can’t be having that.

Satoru watches with careful eyes as you take the first chance you possibly can to dip from the conversation the other sorcerers have roped you into about recent missions. You say you’re going to go find food, but Satoru knows that you’re really saying that you’re going to go find somewhere to fall apart in peace, in solitude.

He’s nice enough to let you have your lies, but letting you have that is going way too far.

Satoru follows after you at a distance, feeling generous enough to let you have some semblance of space as you amble down the hallways of the school. Must be looking for some secluded classroom or something. It would probably be better for you to go home— that would probably be the best place for you to cry your little heart out, but you’re probably not thinking straight.

Lucky him.

You arrive at your destination, a classroom tucked away in the corner of the building and scurry inside, not even looking back as you slide the door shut behind you. Would you have even noticed Satoru standing there if you had looked? Or would your despair have clouded your vision? Satoru’s eyes narrow just slightly at the thought of that; somehow, he doesn’t like it.

All the more reason to rip that facade right off your face.

It takes everything in him to not march straight into that classroom and terrorize you until you forget whatever it is that’s upsetting you. Satoru reminds himself that he’s being kind— being generous and letting you have a few moments for yourself. Not that he’d really know, but he’s heard crying is cathartic, so it’s probably best to let you shed a few tears before he swoops in like the dashing leading man that he is. For now, he’ll just wait at the door and give you a few minutes.

But then he hears it— the sound of a soft, strangled sob, and before Satoru knows it, the door is flying open and he’s entering the threshold of the classroom.

You glare at Satoru and he knows you’re trying your best to look as furious as possible, but the watery eyes and wobbly lips really dampen the heat of your gaze.

He shuts the door behind him before he speaks, “It’s kind of creepy to cry alone in a classroom.”

Your eyes grow wide for a fraction of a second and you scowl at him before whirling around to turn your back to him. “If you’re going to be an asshole, then you can walk right back out that door and pretend you never saw me.”

Satoru can’t help but chuckle a little. No chance of that. Not in a million years. He steps toward you, circling around so that you’re facing one another again. Leaning down, he grins and says, “Now why would I do that?”

Stubbornly, you refuse to look at him as you struggle to answer. Satoru is well aware of the fact that you and he both know that he wouldn’t do that, but he’s interested in seeing what you have to say.

Finally, you answer, expression twisted and almost unwilling as you speak, “To prove that you are the nice and awesome teacher that you claim to be?”

“Oh, but I am,” Satoru says, rising with a laugh. “You see, the students were all scared because they heard crying, and thought maybe this classroom’s haunted. Naturally, being the very brave and super cool teacher that I am, I came to check it out.”

You stare at him, looking completely and wholly unimpressed as usual. “Do you just enjoy lying?”

“It hurts me that you don’t believe that I’m concerned about the students’ mental well being!” Satoru bemoans dramatically.

“Because you’re not!” you shoot back. Something flickers in your eyes, and looking embarrassed, you quickly add. “At least not right now.”

Satoru smiles, pleased at the implications of your addendum. He's well aware that his easy-going demeanor makes it hard to believe any claims of sincerity. Most people, which sometimes includes you, think he's full of hot air— but he really does have the students' best interest at heart and he's glad to know that, deep down, you remember he does too.

"You're right," he says nonchalantly, his smile only widening as the surprise makes itself apparent on your face. He bets that you thought he would stick to the usual script: insist that he's always concerned about the students. You should know better though since Satoru revels in making unpredictable plays. "Right now, I'm concerned about you."

The completely stunned look on your face is priceless. Your lips are slightly parted, your eyes blown as wide can be, still a little red from the tears you shed before he walked in. Something about your expression is softer and Satoru wishes he could immortalize it in a more tangible sense, but for now he decides to settle by committing it to memory.

Quickly, your shock gives way to your typical annoyance, your defenses rising in response to Satoru’s earnestness. There’s something about it— about the thought of tearing them back down that's almost exciting. “You really do like lying, huh?”

“I’m not lying,” Satoru says plainly. “You are my favorite colleague, you know.”

It’s not a lie. Your eyes narrow in clear disbelief though. He would expect nothing different from you. “You know, I’ve heard you say the same thing to Nanami.”

Satoru smiles, unshaken by your accusation. “Okay, so maybe I have. Who says I can’t have two favorites?”

You give him a pointed look. “So what am I, the flavor of the day or something?”

“Sure,” Satoru agrees with ease. He likes that analogy— reminds him of ice cream. If you were a flavor, what would you be? Something with a lot of different textures? Definitely something that’s subtly sweet, though. Not that it matters, it would be his favorite all the same— his only favorite. “So what’s with the waterworks?”

There’s a split second of hesitation before you respond. “Nothing. It’s— I’m fine.”

If Satoru wasn’t sure before, he is now, more than ever; you’re not fine. In the stillness of this otherwise empty classroom it’s easier to hear the strained notes in your voice, the lie weaved into the melody of your words. He tilts his head, a wry grin playing at his lips. “So, who’s the liar now?”

A scowl blooms across your features and the sight of it stirs something in Satoru’s chest. Satisfaction, maybe? It doesn’t seem quite right, but he is pleased that he’s read you so effortlessly.

“I— just— it’s nothing,” you grind out. It looks almost as if you’re going to add something else, but you don’t, as if you think better of it. Can’t have that. Your reticence is kind of annoying, but Satoru doesn’t care all that much; he’s sure he can coax it out of you.

He leans back down so that he’s at eye level, reaching up to pull his blindfold down and reveal his eyes. Your entire body goes tense, but Satoru ignores it as he places a hand on his chin, making an elaborate show of examining your face. “You sure about that? You seem kinda agitated.”

You don’t respond right away, your gaze transfixed on the hue of his eyes. Of all the weapons at his disposal, Satoru’s eyes are the most effective against you. You’d never admit it, but you’re weak against them; the brilliant blue of his irises never failing to entrance you. It might be a little mean of him to wield them against you, but Satoru is known for being ruthless.

“That’s—” you start, the words catching in your throat before you force them out. “That’s because you’re all up in my face right now, Gojo.”

Another lie. Mostly. Some of your agitation is definitely proximity based right now.

“Then let me rephrase; you’ve been kinda agitated since you got back from your mission earlier.” His hand moves from his chin to his ear and he taps it lightly. “Could hear it in your voice.”

The revelation leaves you looking absolutely mortified. Satoru is almost delighted because he can practically hear you asking if you were really that obvious. He plays with the thought of telling you that you were. It’s not a complete lie, but not a whole truth either, after all, not everyone is as adept at reading you as he is.

You recover fairly quickly, shoving your embarrassment aside as you say. “Don’t worry about it.”

He grins a little. “Worry about what?”

Your expression shifts to the very definition of exasperation. Satoru thinks that if you were intent on keeping whatever it is to yourself it would have been better for you to just double down on saying it’s nothing and that things are fine. Unfortunately, you just gave him something new to latch on to pry you open with. Of course he’s going to use it. In clear frustration, you sigh, “Just… just drop it, Gojo.”

“I really am worried though, you know.”

You eye him warily, not bothering to conceal your suspicion and doubt. “You don’t look very worried. In fact, you almost look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Satoru’s eyes widen just a tiny bit. You most definitely don’t realize it, but his persistence is wearing you down. Even though you’re still denying him the words he’s trying to wheedle out of you, you’re no longer handing him the absolutes of ‘it’s fine’ and ‘it’s nothing.’ You’re giving him something he can work with, something he can use, like a puzzle he’s just started to figure out, so of course he’s enjoying himself. And of course, you caught him. He grins at you, guilty. “Maybe a little.”

You rip your gaze from Satoru, jaw clenching as you bite back whatever foul words you want to hurl in his direction. It’s pretty obvious that you’re pissed by what he said and while he could have lied to you, he doubts you would have believed him. Besides, Satoru’s trying to show that he’s the honest one here.

It takes you a second to wrangle your rage back under your control as you defuse yourself with one deep, deep breath. Even though you lash out at Satoru all the time in response to his antics, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you explode in actual anger. You’ve gotten close dozens of times, sure, but each and every time Satoru has seen you swallow your feelings, forcing them down into parts unknown. It’s not like he can blame you; as sorcerers, you’re trained to control your emotions because losing control could very well be the difference between life and death.

He can’t help but wonder: what would happen if you lost control? If you let your feelings— all the sorrow and all the rage, burst from your body? Would you feel better? Would you fall apart? Would you—

Would you let him see?

It’s not until that very moment that Satoru realizes how badly he wants that— to see you come apart at the seams, to be the one to stitch you back up again. The realization brings almost all thought and emotion to a startling halt, a split second of silence before Satoru’s mind is back online, the thrum of desire running hot in his veins.

“My feelings aren’t for your entertainment, Gojo,” you say coolly.

You’re right. You’re wrong. You’re misreading this entire thing. “That’s not it. Not entirely anyway.”

It's obvious you don't believe him. Rolling your eyes, you say, "Gojo, you are such a—"

"I'm not lying."

The interruption stops you short, drawing your gaze to him and finally, finally the two of you are actually seeing eye to eye. Your pupils are blown wide, defenses demolished in the wake of Satoru’s earnestness. He watches as your eyes dart around, your mouth gaping wordlessly as you try to find something to deflect, to deny him.

Eventually, a scowl returns to your face, agitation at its very peak. “You are just—! Look, I’ll be fine, okay? You don’t need to worry about it.”

There’s a note of finality in your voice that makes it obvious that you do not want to have this conversation any more. Satoru doesn’t care, even though he knows at this point the two of you will just end up talking in circles. It’s kind of annoying, and even though he could do it all day, it’s time.

It’s time to rip that mask of yours right off.

“It doesn’t matter if I need to or not,” Satoru says, his tone serious. “Because, whether you want to believe it or not, the fact of the matter is that I am worried.”

You don’t challenge his words. In fact, you don’t say anything at all, but there is a shift in your energy and something about it doesn't seem quite right. Something in Satoru’s stomach shifts uncomfortably and it takes him a second to realize why.

Your silence reminds him of Suguru.

Of all the things Suguru didn’t say. Of all the things that Suguru swallowed— his curses, his feelings, his worries, forcing them down, down, down into parts unknown until he just couldn’t any more, until they came bursting from him, like bile, like vitriol consuming Suguru, twisting him until even Satoru could not recognize his best friend any more.

Satoru had seen the signs, after all, there is almost nothing that isn’t laid bare before the hue of his eyes. He’d seen the exhaustion set in Suguru’s face. He’d seen the way his cursed energy would wind so tightly around his form. He’d seen something was wrong.

But Suguru had said he was fine. That it was nothing. And Satoru—

Satoru had accepted that. Perceptiveness is not a skill that he has ever had to learn, but what to do with that which his eyes see, to comprehend that information, understand it, and act accordingly— those are skills he’s still working on. He saw Suguru was struggling, but Satoru thought that it was fine because Suguru said so. If something was really wrong, then Suguru would have told him because—

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Satoru is quiet. You are quiet. The room is quiet. Everything is too damn quiet.

So, Satoru does what he does best: he fills the air with the sound of his voice. He prattles on and on, knowing somewhere in his mind that it might not make you more amenable to opening up to him, but he can’t stop the words from spewing his mouth, like bile, like desperation, begging you to not turn out like his best friend. “Friends talk to one another, they rely on one another, so you don’t have to feel scared or shy about it. So—”

“...shut up.”

“Huh?” Satoru pretends he didn’t hear you. Your voice is quiet enough.

“I said ‘shut up!’” you repeat, your voice far louder. You take a half step back, one of your arms winding back, your hand balled into a fist like you’re about to punch him.

Satoru lets you.

The loud smack of skin on skin contact echoes throughout the room as your fist collides with his cheek. He reels back a bit, it didn’t hurt all that much, but… “Man, you really know how to throw a punch.”

Satoru rubs his cheek a little. Now that he thinks about it, maybe he really did need that for a second there. He looks down at you and the look on your face is absolutely horrified. It looks like someone just dumped ice cold water and now you’re frozen to the spot, scared, soggy, and surprised. There’s no doubt that you thought that your punch wouldn’t connect, that you thought the hit would get lost in the infinite space between you.

Your fist drops to your side like a sack of potatoes. As it does, your energy finally begins to unravel. Like a puppet whose strings have been cut, your entire body wobbles, and Satoru steps forward, wrapping his arms around you before you crumble to the ground.

He expects you to complain about the fact he’s holding you.

You don’t.

Instead you grumble, your voice muffled by his clothes, “You are such a dirty hypocrite, you know that? Do you talk to people? Do you rely on them?”

“Excuse me, I—”

“Yeah, fine, sure, you talk so damn much that people can’t get you to shut up. But you and I both know that it’s not like you’re saying anything of actual substance most of the time.”

He smiles wryly, though you can’t see it. “And what about right now? We’re talking, aren’t we?

“I’m talking.”

“But are you saying anything?”

You scoff a little bit. “About the same amount as you, I guess.”

Satoru hums. Sounds about right. “I do rely on other people, though. You don’t see me taking on every mission, do you? Not like I can do everything on my own.”

“People act like you can.” Something in your voice sounds almost bitter and for some reason Satoru’s chest aches at the sound. “I just feel like everyone depends on you too much because you’re the ‘strongest.’ Like, what are they going to do if you’re not around?”

“Your lack of confidence in me is kinda rude, you know,” Satoru says dryly. “Do you think something’s going to happen to me?”

“...no,” you answer, reluctant in your honesty. “But I don’t want to be one of those people, not if I can help it.”

He can’t help but laugh. “Don’t think I can handle it?”

“I don’t want you to,” you admit and Satoru frowns, silent as you continue, “I feel like you’ve got enough to worry about already. I don’t want to be adding my crap to it.”

He is more than aware of the burden on his shoulders. Carrying the weight of the world is no easy feat, but Satoru has always been up to the task— accepted it, embraced it even, his waiting hands ever ready and willing to take on more.

Satoru wouldn't mind if you gave him something more to hold.

“What if I want to?” he asks, sounding a little cheeky.

You start to push on his chest, trying to free yourself from his grip. He doesn’t let you. “I don’t care."

Satoru's arms tighten around you in retribution. Your body is a pleasant sort of warm and in the back of his mind Satoru thinks that he wouldn't mind basking in it a little. "Now, that's not very nice at all."

"I don't care!" you repeat, voice still muffled as you struggle against him. "I’m not going to be responsible for contributing to any of your possible mental breakdowns.”

“I don’t have mental breakdowns," Satoru points out. He’s not sure if you realize it, but he’s very good at compartmentalizing, prioritizing his thoughts, his feelings. And more than that—

“Yeah," you say, that bitter sound saturating your tone once more. "I imagine the strongest sorcerer can’t afford to.”

“...something like that, yeah,” he says with another laugh, loosening his grip on you. But he doesn’t let you go completely. Not yet.

You pull back enough so that he can see your face, and your frown almost looks like a pout. It’s kind of cute. “Maybe you should think about it some time. I think it would do you a world of good.”

Satoru pretends to consider it. He sees what you’re saying, and maybe you're right, but he can't. He's built different from you. Different from Suguru. “I thought about it and sorry, but no can do.”

You snort, but you don’t seem all that upset by his refusal; honestly, you probably figured as much. “Must be nice to be you."

"Could be nicer though." Satoru gives you an exaggerated sigh.

You eye him suspiciously, but ultimately take the bait and indulge him. "How so? Do you want everyone to worship the ground you walk on?"

He frowns. He's almost insulted. Almost. "You really think I'm that conceited?"

"Sometimes," you answer with a sassy sort of smile.

Satoru cannot help but stare at you— at the face you're making. Committing the image to memory is just not enough. Taking a picture wouldn't be either. Satoru's fingers twitch, desperate to reach out as if your smile is something he can grab— something he can hold and keep all to himself.

He pouts, "Well, you're wrong."

"Uh-huh…"

"What would make my life nicer," Satoru enunciates slowly, mostly for dramatic effect, "is a nice sorcerer friend who relies on me, tells me their problems and thinks I'm very cool."

You gawk at him before you start laughing. Hard. So hard that tears start forming at the corner of your eyes— that, by the time you're done your breaths are labored and heavy. Satoru is a little offended because he's being honest, but that pales in comparison to the relief he feels seeing that whatever was bothering you seems all but forgotten now. It's less likely now that you'll tell him what that was but Satoru thinks it's a small price to pay to know that you're feeling better.

Besides, he has a feeling about what it could be and so there's next time.

For better or worse, there will always be a next time.

"I'm afraid you're a little shit out of luck there, Gojo," you say once you've caught your breath. "I think your standards are a little high."

He grins. "I only deserve the best, you know."

"Then maybe you should be better first."

"I'm a great friend," Satoru insists. He knows it's not quite the truth, there are ways he could be better, could have been better. For you. For Shoko. For Nanami.

For Suguru.

But he's trying. Here and now. He's trying.

"Are you?" you ask.

"Maybe you should tell me," Satoru retorts playfully. "You know, you never did answer my question earlier."

You blink and then look away, looking a little ashamed.

"You didn't forget, did you? I'm hurt!" Satoru exclaims, exaggerating as he always does.

"I didn't forget!" you say.

"You so forgot!" Satoru shoots back. "But you can make it up to me by answering me now. And no lying this time, got it?"

You scowl at him, looking petulant and it's adorable enough that Satoru is willing to consider giving you a pass if you refuse to answer. Because, even if you don't say it, Satoru knows— no matter how rude you are to him, no matter how much you bicker with him, no matter how much you deny him, he knows the truth.

He doesn't think you'll admit it.

But to his surprise, you do.

Your answer is barely audible, a quiet sort of grumble. "Of course, we're friends… I can't believe you're actually asking me."

Satoru can't help the smile that spreads across his face, elated to hear you acknowledge the friendship between you however reluctant you may be about it. Despite that, there's something, clawing at the back of his mind, demanding and insatiable. You've just admitted to friendship, but Satoru quickly realizes that that's not enough. His fingers twitch again, striving to grasp something else, something more.

"How am I supposed to know that if you don't confide in me a little more?" Satoru asks.

You don't answer. He knows that you know he has a point.

"Listen, you don't have to tell me everything." Even though he wishes you would. "But, if something is seriously bothering you, don't go running into a classroom to cry alone. Just come to me instead."

You groan. Reluctant as always. But it's not a no, and that's good enough for Satoru.

At least for right now.

"Promise?" His voice is soft and gentle, almost a plea.

Satoru couldn't be there for Suguru, but the least he can do is be there for you.

"Okay," you answer, your voice matching his and Satoru wonders if you know, if you realize. "I promise."

extra scene/epilogue

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #nikuniku fics #infinite loop!verse

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yorshie · 6 months

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Heyy idk if you've already done it but can I request clothes that the bayverse boys just love seeing you in? Like besides lingerie (though who doesn't like a cute lingerie) I mean like more mundanish things. A certain pair of shorts/pants/skirt, a certain dress or top, a certain color of clothing. Something along those lines, yk?

Maybe it accentuates a certain part of your body, maybe he just thinks it looks cute. Idk. It doesn't necessarily turn him on (although... hehe) He just can't tear his eyes away/stop stealing glances the second he sees it, and you just know he's getting extra flustered if you catch him gawking 🤭

Hey Nonnie! Thank you for sending this in, I had a lot of fun imagining what each one of the turtles would like- I even asked some other writers what their thoughts were because it was such a fun ask!

The ask I sent to another writer - oops forgot to add this so the context makes sense lol

Donatello

DonBon gets flustered whenever he sees you in his color. He’s not partial to a particular way of dress in the grand scheme of things, as long as it’s some shade of purple, you’ve got his attention. But the thing that would really draw him to a complete stop, is glasses. Even if you donned a lens free pair, he’s going to stop and do a double glance, taken by the way the frames bring attention to your eyes. If you coupled the glasses with a purple shirt or an oversized hoodie, he’s going to go out of his way to get his hands on the material, though don’t be fooled, his real goal is studying you.

Raph

Raphie’s weakness is anything feminine. If it's floofy and a more "girlie" color, he's all on board. While he does love seeing you in his color, the one time you managed to get him to walk head first into a door because he wasn’t paying attention was while wearing a pastel skirt with a petticoat underneath. He likes the way the fabric swishes when you walk, likes how he gets a peek at thighs and calves when you move. He’s an absolute sucker for embroidered patterns and soft fabrics that give him an excuse to study the way your clothes drape and fall on your figure.

Mikey

Angelo likes your comfy clothes. He loves matching PJ sets and lounge wear, the kind that lets him catch a glimpse of your stomach when you raise your hands up over your head, whose sleeves you have to either constantly push up or the tanks that leave your shoulders bare. He’s going to get possessive if it’s any shade of orange, but he’s not too picky. If it’s your favorite, it’s his favorite by proxy, and he revels in the fact that you’re feeling good enough to be comfortable around him. Bonus points if he gets to feel how soft and well worn the fabric is during cuddling.

Leo

Blue likes it when you dress up, likes silk and velvet and tactile fabric that clings to you, loves it when you wear dresses and blouses. If it’s his color, from the darkest navy to a light robin’s egg blue, he’s going to make it a point to inform you how beautiful you look, going to use the praise as cover to rest his hand low on your back. If you’ve dressed up especially for him, he’s not going to even try and hide the way he’s got his eyes on you. Splinter finds it amusing that even his voice can’t shake his eldest out of his thoughts when his attention is centered on you.

All Four

Alright, listen, this Is probably the part that’s a little more risqué than the rest of these, but those that know, will understand what I’m talking about.

There’s a certain type of nightgown, modest in itself, that usually has a scoop collar and hits somewhere around the mid thigh length. It can be a lighter, warm weather fabric that floats around you, or a denser, winter weave that clings more to trap heat. Patterned, or solid color, it doesn’t matter, but everyone that has one of these knows exactly what I’m talking about. There is no faster way to make a man sit up and pay attention, then to wear it, and the turtles are no exception. It’s not sexy, at least not by today’s standards, but there’s just something about it that draws their eyes and will have them following after you.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt leonardo #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #bayverse leonardo #bayverse raphael #bayverse donatello #bayverse michelangelo #bayverse leo x reader #bayverse donnie x reader #bayverse raph x reader #bayverse mikey x reader #my writing requests

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mastercucco · 3 months

Text

Hateno Boy - Part 1 - Link x Reader

The Calamity is gone, but so is Link’s purpose. He feels completely lost in post-Calamity Hyrule where everyone but him seem to have found their new place.

It certainly doesn’t help his restless nights that you, a young Hylian whom Zelda has hired as the new teacher at Hateno School, are slowly taking up more and more of his headspace with each conversation you two have.

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild / Tears of the Kingdom Pairing: Link x fem!Reader Raiting: Mature (might go up, might go down, let's see) Contains: feel-good, slow burn romance; platonic Link/Zelda; Link being an angsty retired hero Chapter Index | Read on Ao3 A/N: Very excited to write something possibly disgustingly cute. The story takes place after the events in BotW but before the beginning of TotK. All characters are adults! I hope you enjoy the story! xx

Chapter 1 - Purpose

Contains: Link being an angsty retired hero; Zelda being embarrassed by Link's inability to talk to girls (or other human beings in general) Word count: ~1,3k A/N: Please look past any weird sentences, English isn't my first language :p

A breath of warm air blows from the sea, gentle on skin and smelling of sea salt. The wind hurries over the hills of Necluda, tall grass bowing before it like waves on an emerald green ocean. Once it reaches Link sitting on top of the hills, it gently tugs on his hair and pushes his hood down.

He has been sitting there for quite some time now – so long that the tips of his ears are starting to redden from the wind, as gentle as it is. The sun that was high up when he arrived at the hills, is now hanging low over the horizon. It is soon time for him to go; Zelda asked him in the morning to stop by the school before sundown.

He is alone, as he is on most days nowadays. There isn’t much for him to do: Zelda is busy rebuilding Hateno, the recently finished village school her new pride and joy. And when she isn’t mingling with the villagers, she’s kept busy with her research at the Tech Lab. She doesn’t require an escort anymore, not after Purah hired a young researcher to assist them decipher ancient Zonai texts anyway. The man rarely leaves Zelda’s side when the two of them are together – which is often. Very often.

Link was jealous at first. After all, he is the Princess’ appointed knight, and he is the one who wields the Master Sword, and he is the one who saved Zelda’s life – not some overly excited, self-proclaimed explorer with a stupidly tall frame and an apparent distaste for wearing upper garments that hide his muscles.

Eventually, his jealousy morphed into loneliness – something he did a terrible job of hiding from Zelda. She asked him if he wanted to return to Hyrule Castle to help the Royal Guard in training new soldiers. Link said no, that he likes it here in Hateno.

“I wouldn’t mind if you go,” Zelda said, gently placing her hand on top of his, “I can see how lost you are here.”

Somehow, Zelda seeing straight through his lies and offering him kindness hurt more than her asking Link to leave in the first place. After that, Link couldn’t help but feel even more uncertain and disconnected. Everyone had seemingly moved on, everyone but him. While he still remains close with Zelda, honoring his duty, accompanying her whenever she travels outside of Hateno, even living with her, he knows deep down that she doesn’t need him anymore. The Calamity is gone, and so is his purpose.

The sun hangs low when Link arrives at Hateno School. The sky is flaring in shades of red, reminding Link of a cozy fire under a cooking pot – somewhere he would much prefer to be. The school’s front doors are open, but the playground is silent and the windows are dark, all except one. It has been a while since Link last visited the school. The children adore him, which is exactly why he prefers to stay away. Their looks of admiration and curious questions make him uneasy. Ever since moving to Hateno, all he has wanted is to lay low, going as far as to hide his head-turning Champion’s tunic in the bottom of his drawer. He wanted to throw the tunic away, but Zelda wouldn’t let him.

He can already hear Zelda’s excited chattering when he reaches the open doors and quietly steps inside. Zelda is having an eager conversation with a young Hylian woman – you – whom Link doesn’t remember seeing before. He does remember Zelda telling him about a new teacher she hired a few months back, and he figures it must be you.

You notice Link arriving before Zelda does and give him a polite smile in greeting. Only when he lightly taps on Zelda’s shoulder does she stop talking and turn around.

“Oh, Link,” she smiles. “You have impeccable timing. We were just talking about you!”

Link furrows his brow. Great, just great, he thinks, already feeling the tips of his ears growing warmer.

“Only good things,” you assure with an awkward laugh. “The Princess told me you made the apple pie she brought the other day.”

Link hopes that the dim light of the oil lamps is enough to hide his red ears. He clears his throat, though not even intending to say anything.

“I don’t think you two have met before, have you?” Zelda says, giving Link an encouraging nudge.

Even after all the years spent in royal banquets practicing formal pleasantries with Hyrule’s nobility, Link still feels awkward having to introduce himself. Nonetheless, he extends his hand for a greeting. When you offer him yours, he brings it to his lips and gives your knuckles a polite kiss. Your skin feels soft and pleasant, he thinks, now horribly self-aware of just how sweaty his own palm is.

When he looks back at you, even he can pick up the awkward tension in your smile and words as you introduce yourself. He feels his whole face heat up, not really understanding what he did wrong but knowing he must have, because even Zelda has the same tension in her smile as you do.

“He is very accustomed to his formal greetings from his days at the Castle,” Zelda says with a forced smile and gives Link a look. Only then does he realize that a hand kiss, though adequate in greeting a noble woman, is not something you, a village school teacher, was expecting from a Royal Knight. He would apologize, but his mouth is dry and no words come out.

“And, well, you probably already know of Link,” Zelda breaks the uncomfortable silence after it becomes clear Link isn’t going to introduce himself.

“The Hero of Hyrule,” you say, knowingly. “We have actually met before.”

We have? Link thinks, the heat of embarrassment getting unbearable. All he wants to do is run home and hide under his bed covers for the rest of eternity. This is why he rarely leaves their home or willingly socializes with the villagers. He would cringe if he wasn’t too embarrassed to move his face muscles.

“You have?” asks Zelda out loud, her disapproving eyes boring into Link’s.

“It was years ago,” you are quick to add. “He took refuge in our family home once. I wouldn’t blame him for not remembering.”

Zelda doesn’t appear quite as understanding when she shoots another scolding look at Link, the pink in her own cheeks deepening as well. “Please,” she says as she turns back to you, “accept my apology. Link can be awfully forgetful sometimes.” She gives him a final glare that, at last, makes him drop his head. He’s not sure if dying of embarrassment is a real occurrence, but if it is, then he must be very close to leaving Hyrule for good.

“It’s quite alright, Your Highness,” you say with a slightly uneasy laugh that fails to fully mask your discomfort. “I don’t mind it, really. Like I said, it was years ago.”

There is an uncomfortable silence between the three of you. Then Zelda claps her hands, and the tension breaks like a taut rubber band. Link sighs, relieved.

“Well,” Zelda says, “now that we are done with introductions, perhaps we can show Link the curriculum we’ve been working on? I’m sure he can give us his opinion on the section about monster parts and their usage in elixirs.”

When you turn to look for something from your writing table’s drawers, Link grabs Zelda’s sleeve and gives her a pleading look. Zelda narrows her eyes and shakes her head.

“Do not even think of fleeing” she hisses in his ear before she hurries over to you to help you with a pile of scrolls close to toppling over. Link lets out a silent grunt and looks longingly at the open doors. The sun has gone down, the sky now the same shade as embers cooling down under a cooking pot – somewhere he would much prefer to be.

Chapter 2 - Heromania »

#breath of the wild #botw #link x reader #link x (y/n)#link x you #reader insert #the legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #totk #age of calamity #botw link x reader #totk link x reader #my writing #hateno boy #if you saw me post this yesterday #no you didnt #fics

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